


Human Factor

by NotLostWanderer



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:11:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotLostWanderer/pseuds/NotLostWanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fix-it for the If-Then-Else. Just one of the many probabilities that could have happened in that elevator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human Factor

**Author's Note:**

> Tellany, I bow to you for your patience. Thank you for being the most amazing beta. :)

Harold kept repeatedly pushing the button. The elevator simply refused to work. Shaw looked around. _Fuck._ They needed something. Just to to the right from the guards desk there was...

“There's an override button!” She calculated their options. This could work. “Someone's gonna get to that button and hold them off.”

She had enough time to close the gate and kick-start the elevator. _Shit._ The right corner of the mesh-screen door was severely deformed, preventing it from moving. That meant no protection until the sliding doors would close. Shaw hoped that she had enough bullets to buy her team some time.

“Sameen, if you think I'm gonna let you -” Root, of course.

“Oh, for God's sake!” Shaw whirled around ready to snap at Root. However, the angry words died at her lips the second she saw the other’s woman face, and all the emotions that were swirling in her eyes - desperation, pain, realization, defeat. Shaw felt a surge of her own, unfamiliar emotions rush to the surface. She thought angrily that she will never have the chance to identify these feelings Root brought with her presence. She shut down her mind and let her instincts decide. She could push her away, or just this once give into this pull that existed between them. Shaw rushed forward, grabbed Root by the lapels of her jacket and smashed their lips together for a long, desperate second. She felt as something foreign exploded in her chest and with sudden clarity realized that she wished that _'maybe someday'_ hadalready happened. Forcing herself back into reality she forcibly pushed Root back. 

Shaw crossed the distance to the override button in three quick steps, not breaking her gaze from the entrance and pointing her gun at the coming Samaritan's operatives. She got one right in the center-mass, exhaled and turned to press the button. The hum of the elevator’s doors resonated in the corridor. She turned back and took out another agent. The next second, all hell broke loose.She heard the sound of a shot. She felt a searing pain in her left side. She heard an anguished scream of the one person she tried so hard not to think about. 

In the elevator, held by Fusco'sarms, Root felt like all the feelings that existed in this world crashed right into her - unknown, unconventional and confusing feelings, a tide that threatened to swallow her whole. After hearing the shot, every sound ceased to exist. Even the Machine's rapid calculations of their rate survival and its warnings not to interfere faded into nothing. Even her own screams were muted. She watched as the bullet shells from Shaw's gun fell one after the other to the floor. She watched a bullet pierce Shaw's body and exit with sputters of blood. She watched as Shaw's body jerked backwards and stumbled toward the elevator doors that started closing. When she saw Martine at the end of the corridor with predatory smirk on her face, her blood turned to ice. 

The sound of the second shot shattered her silent vacuum. Shaw doubled over. Root elbowed Fusco hard on the chest and rushed to Shaw, leaving all rational thoughts behind. Now, she only saw one person, and needed to do only one thing. 

Root managed to catch Shaw a mere second before she hit the ground. She grabbed her around the waist. She then turned and hurled Shaw toward the elevator. Finch grabbed the injured woman by the lapels of her coat and dragged her inside.Root dived in right after, barely managing to avoid the closing doors. She tried to shield the other woman body with her own when a sound of the third shot rang in the air and she felt a searing pain in her left shoulder. She fell heavily on Shaw just as the door of the elevator finally separated all of them from the immediate danger.

Heavy silence settled around them, interrupted only with labored breathing. Even the Machine was silent. 

“We are a bunch of a lucky bastards, aren't we?” Of course Fusco would be the first one to recover from the shock of the last couple of minutes, and try to joke about it. Harold looked at him, troubled frown on his face giving way to beginnings of a smile. “Indeed we are”. 

Somewhere from his left, Harold heard a groan: Reese. Reality crashed into them with full force once again. Even though they had managed to escape, they still had two injured teammates whose conditions were worsening by the minute. Hospitals were out of option. While the shadow-map gave them ways of traveling, it was greatly limited and the team was running out of time. He turned to Root. She was now their eyes and ears. Her gaze at the moment was unfocused, head turned to the side, as she always was when the machine was talking to her. 

“I hear you. Yes.” She paused for a second. Her face was cold, void of any emotions. “Understood.” She turned to the rest of the team “She said that there is a car right outside, a safe one. It was...” she halted. Her voice cracked “is... is Shaw's car.” Harold nodded. “Also, she gave me an address. We can find help there.” 

Root looked down at her hands, hands that were pressing on the Shaw's wounds. She felt numb. Her heart felt like a gaping hole. She actually didn’t feel her injuries anymore. Her mind was tearing between calculations of their chances and prayers that had been buried in the deepest corners of her mind for so long. Nothing made sense anymore. 

Lift stopped. Lionel grabbed Reese and helped him to his feet. Finch crunched on the floor next to the Root and helped her to pull Shaw up. 

Relief washed over them when the door opened and they saw no one in sight. There was a dark car parked haphazardly with the driver door left open and engine still running. It was a miracle that Shaw managed to park in the dead-zone of the surveillance cams. 

Lionel helped Reese to the backseat and fastened the seat belt to prevent unnecessary movements. Finch and Root gently settled Shaw in, keeping steady pressure on her wounds. Root was the last one to seat herself in the car. Once there, she absentmindedly recited the address to Lionel and turned back to listening to Shaw breathing. Her whole world shrank to these sounds - Inhale, exhale. 

Root was shocked out of her daze when the car stopped. She looked out of the window and saw that they had stopped at the back entrance of a dirty and unkempt building. The choice of their destination could be explained by absence of any visible surveillance. 

The door to the building opened and a tall man in his early thirties hurried to their car. Root reached for her gun, only to remember that it was left lying on the floor of the elevator. She turned her body to protect Shaw from possible danger. 

The man took cautious steps towards driver’s side while trying to discern the occupants of the vehicle. The way he was getting around the automobile, sticking to the spots where it would be hard to take a clear shot from the car, just screamed professional training. Lionel lowered the window, but before he could utter a word the man spoke first. 

“I received a message with the time of your arrival and your license plate.” He sounded calm, but his eyes gave away his suspicions “I don’t know how you managed to find about my, let’s call it clinic, but I need some guaranties from you.” 

Harold recovered first. 

“Of course, Mr...” 

“Let's call me Ted.” 

“Of course, Ted. Right now, we can give you our word and,” he turned to Root and she nodded her head “pretty decent sum of money on one of your accounts.” 

“But how could you possibly know-” the beeping of his phone startled Ted. 

“I believe this is a confirmation of a transaction.” Harold silently thanked the Machine for perfect timing. “Also, Ted, we need to keep this as confidential as possible.” 

Ted gave an affirmative nod and went to open the car door against which Reese was resting. Lionel went to help him while Finch assisted Root with getting Shaw out. 

No one said a word while they dragged the two operatives inside the building, into the room that looked like an OR from another century. Thankfully, it was rather clean. Considering the circumstances they were not in a place to be picky. 

Reese was conscious. The vest had protected him and the only concern was the possibility of an internal injuries. Shaw was another story. She had lost a lot of blood and her breathing was irregular. That could mean only one thing – the bullet had injured her lung. Thus it wasn't really a choice who would get help first. After they laid Shaw on the what seemed to be an operation table, Ted ordered them to the second room. Harold gently took Root, who was staring blankly at the blood on her hands, by the shoulders and tried to pull her to the next room. She didn't even resist, moving in some kind of trance. Finch led her to the chair in the corner and sat heavily next to her. He observed the room with a tired gaze and felt helplessness overwhelm him when he saw the state of their team. 

Reese was looking at the ceiling blankly. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist. He felt that they failed somehow, that he could have done more. His injury had considerably complicated the situation, in terms of the chances of the team survival. He was supposed to be Shaw’s partner, to have her back. His guilt turned into anger. He wanted to punch someone, something, but his energy was enough only to clench his fist. 

Lionel felt shocked and shaken. Today, he had seen his friends fall one after another. The couple of minutes in the elevator were scorched into his mind forever. The silent emotions he was not prepared to see from these two women had broken his heart. He rubbed his chest where Root’s elbow had hit him and his lips curled in some resemblance of a smile. This was something he wouldn't have a problem forgiving. 

Root was sitting with her elbows on her knees. She couldn't tear her gaze away from her hands, or more precisely, the blood on her hands. Something had died inside her today with each scream that left her lungs in that elevator. She felt lost, drowning in the sea of emotions she couldn't name. A lonely tear slid down her face. Root didn’t notice. She kept staring at her hands. Everything that she held dear was in the hands of this unknown man next room and she hated this. She hated her inability to help. She hated this war. She hated Shaw for making the right and logical decision. More tears appeared. She closed her eyes and silently vowed that she will burn them down, destroy every person responsible for the near death of the one person she kept fighting for. However, at the same, time she felt weak and helpless, as if she was breaking under the weight of all this emotions. 

Harold repressed a tired sigh. They were losing. Every day brought new dangers. Even if they left this place today without losses they still would need time to recuperate and come to terms with reality of this war. They needed to prepare new strategy, preferably without any self-sacrificing elements in it. Although he wondered, now more than ever, if it was possible. Hearing the beeping of the old monitors and cluttering of instruments next door, he took a good look at his bruised and battered team. Was today the day they finally lost their last chances at winning? Could this broken and lost group of people find the strength to continue this fight?


End file.
